


there might start eternity

by madrigan



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrigan/pseuds/madrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The admiring glances and envious stares bestowed on his wife do not go unnoticed by Hannibal. Bedelia is a singularly beautiful woman, after all. And among the scions of contemporary Florentine society, she simply dazzles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there might start eternity

**Author's Note:**

> Before the waltz, and shortly after.

The admiring glances and envious stares bestowed on his wife do not go unnoticed by Hannibal. 

Bedelia is a singularly beautiful woman, after all. And among the scions of contemporary Florentine society, she simply _dazzles_.

\--

Back in Baltimore, she had been revered in the medical community for her insight and skills. Amongst the Maryland elite, her unfailing grace and refinement had garnered the attention of numerous admirers. Of course, after the unfortunate attack, neither side heard much of her.

Despite the overtures of her psychiatrist friends and many suitors, Bedelia could not be coaxed back into active society.

But that didn’t mean they stopped talking about her. Hannibal had, on several occasions, been diverted by her previous circle of acquaintances, begging him to bring her to one of their soirées.

“We miss her wit,” Vivian – a tall red head with a willowy figure, had sighed.

“She was merciless ,” Isla agreed, eyes gleaming with recollection.

“Bedelia only sees you nowadays, Doctor Lecter,” Vivian had pointed out.

“It is unfair that you are privy to all her company,” Isla complained.

\--

Hannibal had always prided himself on his near-perfect memory, but it seemed he had forgotten the pleasure he would derive upon watching Bedelia flatter and flaunt her way through the gathered masses.

Presently, she was speaking to the board of directors of the Uffizi, and they looked delighted with her, none more so than the Contessa.

"Signora Fell is becoming very popular, Dottore," his current conversation companion noted.

"That she is. I do not think you have met her, Signor Rocca. Come, I will introduce you."

They made to approach the group, just in time to hear Bedelia bid them a good evening. Before the Contessa moved away, she turned her attention to Hannibal.

"How captivating your wife is, Dottore Fell! You must let me steal her away more. Perhaps tea, or lunch?"

"I am sure we would be happy to oblige," Hannibal replied.

The Contessa beamed, and with a final friendly squeeze on Bedelia's arm, left.

Bedelia looked at Hannibal, expectant, and he motioned to the eager young man beside him.

"Signor Rocca, this is my wife. _Vita mia_ , Signor Rocca is pursuing his master's in art history."

"Please, call me Nico - I insist," he protested, and happily accepted Bedelia's proffered hand.

"How are you enjoying Florence, Signora?"

"It is a beautiful city, Nico."

"My wife is partial to the frescoed walls of San Marco. My attempts to persuade her to spend more time at the Accademia with me have not been effective,” Hannibal interjected balefully.

"Ah! You find yourself attracted to 'The Annunciation', _si_? It is a real masterpiece."

They enter into a discussion of Florentine art, Nico gesturing wildly in his excitement.

When couples begin to assemble on the dance floor, Nico takes it as his cue to leave.

"It was good to meet you, Signora Fell. _Sei bella_. I have been hearing my friends tell me this all evening, and now I can confirm it too. If only the grand masters of _il Rinascimento_ were alive today. They would be clamouring to paint your likeness."

The corners of her lips tilt in a small smile, and Hannibal knows she is flattered.

"How charming," Bedelia comments after he leaves, and Hannibal cannot help but tease her.

"Yes, but not quite as charming as Signorina Aponte."

The heiress had been in conversation with them earlier that evening, and had ended it with an extremely provocative " _non vedo l'ora di vederti_ " directed at Bedelia and sealed it with a flirtatious wink, much to Hannibal's amusement.

"Perhaps not," Bedelia concedes, "but close."

Hannibal smiles, and before the dance floor becomes overcrowded, holds his hand out to her in invitation.

Bedelia places her hand in his, and as he draws her close, his lips brush over the sensitive shell of her ear. She refuses to think about the shiver of pleasure that races down her spine.

"I know how much you loved dancing, Bedelia," Hannibal says softly, and she looks up at him, an uncharacteristically gentle smile on her bright features.

“I still do, Hannibal.”

The orchestra strikes up the music, the first strains of Dvořák's Serenade for Strings floating through the air, and their waltz begins.

They attract numerous stares as they glide across the dance floor, and this is something Bedelia remembers fondly from her days in Baltimore society. She is aware they make a striking couple- severe and beautiful and timeless, as one of her psychiatrist friends had once commented.

Their movements are sinuous, well-coordinated and perfectly poised. A part of Bedelia thrills in the exhilaration of living life at the edge, masquerading under aliases in high society, and dancing the night away with a man she thought might finally be completely unmasked to her.

Hannibal, who had always been attuned to the minutest changes in her expressions, notes her contentment, and cannot help but feel the same himself. In that moment, even onlookers could not doubt the affection that was so obvious between the Dottore and his wife. And in that moment, Hannibal thinks he has finally found the peace he has been seeking.

But all dances must end, and as the orchestra strikes the last chord, Hannibal's eyes twinkle, causing Bedelia to laugh knowingly, her hold on him tightening before he dips her.

" _Bellissima_ ," Hannibal appraises, an undecipherable soft look in his eyes, and Bedelia, afraid to shatter the fragile, developing connection between them, softly returns, "grazie."

But the moment is shattered, regardless, and Hannibal lifts a coupe of champagne from a passing waiter. He offers it to Bedelia, who declines it with a shake of her head. 

\--

"Dottore Fell! I hope you translate as well as you waltz."

\--

_tbc_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Tom Merrill's poem, Time in Eternity. I'm planning to write another fic where Hannibal reads Dante to Bedelia, and several more if I have the time.


End file.
